


a month of somedays

by aelias



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-05-02 23:12:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5267483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aelias/pseuds/aelias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snapshots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. chime

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm going to try and do Rhinozilla's 30 Days of Caryl Challenge on Tumblr. I can't promise that I'll get to one every day, now that I am an Employed Member of Society, and I can't promise they'll even be any good, but I can promise that I will do them all, eventually, and I hope you enjoy them (actually, I can't promise that last one either, but I hope for it in any case). :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead. TWD is the property of Robert Kirkman/AMC, and are not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.
> 
> Day 1: The first time Carol/Daryl heard Daryl/Carol laugh.

 

* * *

He was sitting in front of his tent, wiping down one of his bolts, when he heard it. Laughter. Quiet, , soft, but strong, a laugh that wasn’t hiding. A laugh that was meant to be heard.

Daryl jerked his head up and looked over towards the tables. It was the mother and their kids. The dark-haired widow. Her boy. The little girl. And the quiet one.

Not a single one was paying him any attention, disproving his immediate reaction that they were somehow laughing at him, so his hackles settled back and he went back to his cleaning. One of his eyes, though, kept straying lazily over to the tables.

“Do you have one, Sophia?”

The girl looked as though she had been asked to give a presentation, her eyes wide in her freckled, sun-kissed face. 

“I don’t know. None of them are any good.”

“That’s okay,” said the girl’s mother. The quiet one. Carol. “We’ll be the judge of that. If you have one, you should share it.”

Sophia looked at the three of them — Carl, Lori, Carol — as though to make sure she really had their permission. Then she turned her head towards him, and Daryl shifted his gaze back down to his bolts, only to realize a second later that she wasn’t looking at him, but rather, she was looking _for_ someone. Someone else. Someone with a mean glaze who stomped around camp and loved the sound of his own, heavy footfalls. Someone Daryl had known before.

But that someone wasn’t around, and so, relieved, she turned back to the group.

“Um, okay, well here’s one I heard from school…what’s long, brown, and sticky?”

Lori and Carol hummed appreciatively, pausing appropriately before asking, “I don’t know, what?”

“A stick!”

Daryl’s snort caught him by surprise and discretely he checked to see if anyone had heard him, the tips of his ears flaming. But no, nobody heard him, the mothers and the boy and the girl were too busy laughing themselves, and while three voices blended together, one stood out, clear and ringing like a bell chime. Her eyes were crinkled at the corners, and her tongue stuck a little bit between her teeth as she giggled away, and it didn’t occur to Daryl to be annoyed by it. He only wondered if she would laugh like that again, if her daughter would tell another dumb joke, the key to unlocking that light sound from within. But with the world the way it was, and a person like Ed skulking and lumbering about, there wasn’t really too much to laugh at these days. 

So just in case, Daryl bottled that sound and kept it close, so when he needed to, he could open it up again and her listen to her waiting voice.

 


	2. hives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I may not get to these every single day, I'm at least trying to do them in order, so here's Day 2. I'm not too happy with it, but I hope you enjoy anyway!
> 
> Day 2: Daryl/Carol accidentally sees Carol/Daryl naked.

* * *

It had been another long, blistering day of walking and driving and riding. Another day of trying to create as much space between themselves and the walker-infested farm they fled. They didn’t talk about it, choosing to pretend that journeying somewhere, anywhere, had been their plan all along. It was easier that way. Easier for Maggie, Beth, and Hershel. Easier for Glenn. Easier for everyone.

Almost everyone. Daryl knew it wasn’t so easy for Carol, who was constantly looking over her shoulder while she sat behind him on the bike. She would say that she was just being alert, keeping an eye out for walkers, but Daryl knew that there was another reason, one that had stumbled out of a barn on tiny, gray ankles.

When the sun began it’s descent and the light burned away, the group pulled the cars over to the side of the road and began unpacking in a small clearing. 

Daryl parked the bike and waited for Carol to slip off the back. Neither of them spoke. Talking was as much a luxury as clean clothes and fresh water. Something to save until absolutely necessary to use.

After a quick, watery stew for dinner, the group went through the motions of bedding down. The monotony of routine helped to exhaust them in the same way the traveling and the heat had done during the day, so that by the time Daryl had unloaded his crossbow and settled himself in beside Carol, she was already breathing deeply.

Pink fingers of sunlight were just starting to claw their way up the sky when there was a creak, a crack, and then Carol was screaming, limbs flailing as she wrestled her way out of the blankets, kneeing Daryl right between his shoulder blades. The action would’ve woken him up had he not already shot up the moment he heard her voice, but he suppressed the painful grunt and watched, stupidly, as Carol stood up, walked a few paces away, and pulled her shirt up over her head, leaving her in just a torn, threadbare bra.

He knew he should look away. He shouldn’t be staring at her chest, at the way her collarbone jutted out to create a hollow basin, at the freckles sprinkled across her shoulders like confectionery…

“Daryl! _Move!_ ”

He knew they were her words, but he couldn’t hear them, so distractedhe was by the bobbing of her vocal chords against her throat. He felt Rick and T-Dog haul him up under the arms and drag him off the bedding, but he still couldn’t look away from her face, which had morphed from terror to vague confusion.

Then he felt T-Dog pinch the hemline of his shirt, preparing to jerk it up, and Daryl snapped out of his trance. “Back _off!_ ” he snarled, jerking away and almost falling right back into the blankets.

He hadn’t spoken to T-Dog with that much venom since the two of them were on a rooftop with a severed hand and a lost key between them, but the fear of being exposed to the group, who were now all awake, was lightning quick and sharp as a whip, and in that split second, it regressed him back into that man in Atlanta quicker than a blink. T-Dog held his hands up in a placating manner, but Daryl didn’t bother to apologize. He would have time for that later, along with the regret.

“The hell was that all about?” He directed the question to Rick, but it was really meant for Carol, who he couldn’t bring himself to look back at.

“Bees. It was a beehive,” she answered, because she knew, like she always did, who he was really asking. He turned in her direction, but kept his eyes glued to his boots, as she continued. “I’m sorry, Daryl. I’m sorry, everyone,” she added, addressing the whole group, “I should’ve noticed the beehive before I went to bed.”

“It’s not your fault,” Hershel said, stepping forward with a blanket. “You’re also lucky. Looks like the hive has been vacated for a long time, but let me take a look at you anyway, just in case. Maggie, will you grab the first aid kit and meet me by the truck?” He wrapped the blanket around Carol’s shoulders, covering those freckles, and Daryl refused to read into the feeling of disappointment that swept him up and threatened to drown him. 

Later, when the dawning pink and yellow faded to a morning blue, Daryl approached Carol, who was still sitting in the truck bed. She had changed into a new shirt—pale green with bell sleeves—and she looked up from where she was repacking her bag, the corners of her lips already starting to curl. She was always ready for him, no matter what.

“Here,” he said. With his face flaming, he thrust her old shirt back at her.

She took it from him, unfolding and holding it out in front of her. It wasn’t much, just a red tank top that she had nicked from a dead woman’s suitcase a couple weeks back, and it was starting to see better days, but he knew it was a favorite of hers, and even if she didn’t wear it again, he didn’t feel right not giving it back to her. He didn’t want her to have one more thing of hers left behind.

“Thank you, Daryl, but I probably shouldn’t wear this again. Hershel said—“

“Hershel said the hive was old and cleared you earlier, so the shirt should be fine too.” Feeling the heat travel to his ears, he averted his gaze and shuffled his feet. “I know you like it. Deserve to have something that’s just yours.”

She didn’t say anything, and anxiety at her silence made Daryl look up. The sun was behind her, lighting her hair on white fire, but it was nothing compared to the blinding brightness of her smile.

 


	3. lady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I took a 10 month break from writing any fic at all, much less this one, but with NaNo around the corner I want to try and get back into the swing of things. I’m rusty, so I’m not sure how good this is, but I hope you enjoy anyway!
> 
> Day 3: If Axel had lived

* * *

“She’s quite a lady. You’re a lucky man, Daryl Dixon.”

These were words that would’ve earned the speaker a fist in the mouth if the speaker was anyone other than Axel. But Daryl only nodded, quirked his lip up at the corner, and said, “I damn well know it.”

The two of them were crouched on either side of Daryl’s bike, rubbing it down with oil-stained rags, their shoulders pinking under the midday Georgia sun. Some people were cleaning the outdoor eating area and prepping it for dinner. Others were walking along the fence line, poking shivs through walker eyes while conversing amicably. It was odd, a picture dotted with both black blood and smiles, but that was what the prison had come to be.

The battle against the Governor was a hard one, and it took some time for everyone to rebuild. But now, more than a year later, the prison was flourishing, and life seemed the best it could be post-Turn. Rick and Michonne had moved into a cell together. Glenn and Maggie were expecting. Beth was dating a fresh-faced young Woodbury boy. Carl, tall and lanky, finally had other teenagers to hang out with. Judith just celebrated her first birthday, a bittersweet affair.

Daryl had been named runner and recruiter for the group, helping out scavenging parties while bringing back promising survivors. And Carol was matriarch of the prison, keeping everything in line and on schedule. The two of them were respected and revered by their peers, and it was probably the happiest they’d ever been in their lives.

Currently, Carol was overseeing the eating area’s cleanup, taking charge with an air that was both regal and fair. She moved among the people, helping out where she could, but Axel saw her eyes flick over to where he and Daryl were a few times, an invisible smile on her lips.

Axel stood and stretched, knees creaking and shoulders popping. Two of the women who were at the fence line began making their way back up towards the prison. One of them, brown-haired and freckle-faced, caught Axel’s eye and smiled shyly. Axel dropped his arms and held one of his hands up in greeting, his cheeks turning the same shade as his sunburnt shoulders. As the women moved on, Axel looked down to find Daryl watching him with amused interest. “Looks like you got quite a lady yourself there, man.”

“Naw,” Axel shrugged off the suggestion, “we ain’t done much more than what you just saw.”

“It was definitely somethin’ I saw,” Daryl said, also standing and stretching. He tossed the rag over his shoulder and shaded his eyes against the sun, looking up towards the outdoor eating area. Carol happened to be flicking her eyes over at just that moment, and the two of them shared barely-there smiles. A second later and Daryl was ducking his head and Carol averted her gaze to the plates and cups still scattered on the tables. Furtively, Daryl looked up and caught Axel’s squinting eyes and smile, mustache curling at the corners. Scoffing, Daryl tossed his rag at Axel’s smirking face. “Ain’t you got yer own woman to be makin’ eyes at?”

The friendship between Daryl and Axel was unusual, but inevitable, once Daryl learned Axel had saved Carol’s life. The two of them had been out in the courtyard when some of the Governor’s men, hiding out in the trees, took aim at the two and fired. Axel had been able to notice just in time, and threw his body on top of Carol’s when the first bullet embedded itself in his shoulder instead of Carol’s skull, its intended target. The two of them had scooted behind a barrier to wait out the rest of the gunfire, and Daryl and Merle had returned to the prison in the middle of Hershel performing emergency surgery on Axel. When he woke, Daryl was at his bedside, thanking him genuinely.

“You boys thirsty?”

Carol was walking down from the outdoor eating area to meet them, a perspiring water bottle in each hand. She was wearing one of the tops Daryl had brought back for her — robin egg blue with a lacy, V-cut neckline that put her freckles on display.

Daryl seemed a little distracted, so Axel answered, “Thank ya kindly, ma’m.”

Carol passed him one of the water bottles and handed the other one over to Daryl, who held on just a tad second longer than necessary, their fingertips brushing. Then Carol wiped her hands on her cargo pants and smiled at them both. “How’s the bike cleaning going?”

“Good, just ‘bout finished now,” Daryl said, swigging from his water bottle. Axel nodded along in agreement.

“That’s good,” Carol said. She craned her neck back towards the eating area. “We’re going to be getting ready for dinner soon, if you want to take a break before eating.” The statement was directed at both of them, but her eyes were on Daryl, and he answered the hidden question in her words with a shy head dip.

Cheeks hurting from reigning in his smile, Axel answered, “That sounds real good, Carol. We’ll head up now.”

“Yeah,” Daryl added, finally breaking free of his trance. Then he took a step toward Carol, and Axel held his breath while casting a quick glance around the courtyard. There were still people milling about, was Daryl really going to? In front of everyone—?

Daryl reached out a hand and placed it lightly on Carol’s hip, fingers clenching minutely, and whispered, “See you in a bit.”

Her answering smile was brighter than the sun, and just as dazzlingly white. It dulled a watt when she turned back toward Axel, but the genuineness hadn’t dimmed a bit. Then she turned and made her way back inside the prison.

Axel and Daryl stood together, watching her leave, the condensation from their water bottles dripping onto the cement beneath them.

“Yep,” Axel murmured, side-eyeing Daryl, who was still watching Carol’s ghost, “quite a lady, indeed.”


End file.
